All Four Seasons in One Day
by Ione
Summary: After the Snap, the world needs people to help put it back together again. Written for lokaneweek. Mostly fluff, Infinity War compliant. ONESHOT.


**All Four Seasons in One Day**

A lokaneweek fic

Prompts: Seasons, Elements, the Universe, Colors

* * *

A year. Four seasons. Twelve months.

That was all it took.

* * *

 **Winter**

The winter after the snap was harsh. White snow blanketed cold, black earth. Traumatized survivors huddled together in high school gymnasiums, community centers, or town auditoriums, sharing food and warmth, but also _life_. Each one was unable to bear the sight of houses with empty rooms, empty chairs, empty cribs.

Jane didn't have that luxury. Heavily-guarded military supply trucks were mobilized to distribute emergency food supplies to a country wrapped in terror and despair, and Jane travelled with them, part of a cobbled-together group of scientists of all stripes. Her astrophysical expertise wasn't as vital as her engineering acumen and familiarity with extraterrestrial technology. But it wasn't important. Anyone with a brain was needed. Needed to ensure nuclear facilities didn't melt down. Needed to coordinate supplies. Needed to vaccinate, to communicate, to figure out what the hell to do next.

She found him in a gray Midwestern town, his green eyes the only bright thing she'd seen in weeks. The rest of him blended into the scenery. Ebony hair. Ivory skin. Filthy brown hoodie and sweatpants, the color of churned mud.

"Fancy meeting you here," she said. She wasn't afraid of him. She was beyond fear.

"Miss Foster," Loki replied, grimly, "You have no idea."

 **Spring**

Spring came late that year, which was a blessing in disguise. Sure, there were fewer people to feed, but knowing where to plant, what to plant, and how to distribute the harvest took months to plan. That, and drafting volunteers from the surviving populace to work on the country's understaffed, often abandoned, industrial farms took the combined might of the US military and the communication array jointly engineered by Jane and Loki.

Planting that year was like something out of a history book. Dozens of people stretched out to the horizon on either side of Jane, tucking green seeds into the raw, turned ground. The dirt between her bare toes was warmed by a high, hot sun, and sweat ran from her brow and dripped off her chin.

It was the first time in months that Jane felt alive and present in her own body.

At lunchtime, she and Loki sat shoulder-to-shoulder with the other planters, drinking distilled water and eating MREs. Jokes about the bad food flew around the table, and Jane found herself laughing. She couldn't remember the last time she'd done it.

Later, after a dessert of rehydrated dehydrated peaches and oily whipped cream, Jane sidled up to where Loki stood, looking over the fields. In a few weeks, the bare ground would be furred with fresh green shoots. The same emerald green as his eyes.

"We did this," she said, taking his hand. "You and me. We made this possible."

"If you are trying to thank me," he stepped away from her, folding his arms across his chest, "it was nothing."

"It was _everything_ ," Jane stared at him, eyes earnest and wide, "Loki, the entire country will eat again because of what you've done. What you've helped me do," she corrected herself, because she had no intention of losing out on her share of the credit and it was _her_ idea, after all.

Loki's reluctant smile told her he understood all too well.

"Then…thank you," he said, "I appreciate your sentiments."

 **Summer**

They kissed for the first time in July, when the corn stood taller than Jane's head and Loki had to bend beneath the ears to reach her lips. The touch of him was cool on Jane's cheek, uncommonly cool considering how fevered Jane felt. She shuddered, flushed and chill and goosebumped all over.

"I'm sorry," he said immediately, pulling back, "If you—"

She reached up, caught a fistful of his soft cotton shirt in a grasping fist, and dragged him back down.

The world above her was golden and blue, sun glancing off leaves and reflecting in blades of light, sharp enough to cut her open eyes. A cloud drifted overhead, plunging them into purple shadows that whispered with a soft, sweet breeze.

Jane broke away, gasping for breath, for the life that thrummed around them. It was as though a vise had been loosened from around her heart, and she could feel blood rushing to parts of her that had been dying slowly from want of oxygen. Her mouth tingled, the delicate skin almost bruised by her ferocity.

It was then her turn to apologize. "I don't," she stammered, "I don't know what happened. I just felt…I'm sorry."

"You felt like you could breathe again," he looked as thunderstruck as she, "I know. I have been…Jane," he took her hands in his own; they trembled, "My mother, my people, my…father; they are all dead. I escaped and wished I had not. What except Thor had I to live for? Where is Thor now? I never thought I would…I would wake in the morning and not wish I were dead."

She kissed him again, hard and brutal and life-affirming.

Because they were _alive_. They were _both alive_.

 **Autumn**

When harvest came, the world was ready. Silos filled, factories hummed to life, and feast tables were laid across the country, groaning with fresh fruits and vegetables. The people who encircled those tables weren't happy, per se, but they were finding their feet on new paths to happiness. New friends, new families, new loves. New lives.

Just as Jane and Loki had begun to do, all those months ago.

Jane laughed as a breeze kicked up, showering crimson maple leaves down on her head. Two of them caught in her hair as she brushed them loose, fringing her forehead with an autumnal crown of a fairy queen. Loki leaned forward and, rather than plucking them away, wove yellowed ash and oak leaves in their places. His fingers were scented with fall spices; Jane kissed them gently, shyly.

"I never wanted any of this to happen," she said. "I never could have imagined it. But," she looked at his face, that face she knew and trusted and loved, "now I can't imagine the world any differently. Is that terrible?"

"No," he shook his head, "That is life."


End file.
